


The End is the Beginning

by sarcastic_fina



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Bonding, F/M, Near Death Experience, Road Trip, self discovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-28
Updated: 2013-02-28
Packaged: 2017-12-03 21:17:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/702734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcastic_fina/pseuds/sarcastic_fina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A near-death experience brings together two wanderers out to find their purpose in life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The End is the Beginning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [puffabilly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/puffabilly/gifts).



> Written for puffabilly, with **[this picture](http://xxpaperflowersxx.deviantart.com/art/Drowning-121011073)** in mind.
> 
> I honestly had no idea that picture would lead to this, but I hope you like it!

All Darcy could hear was the roar of water, like her ears were pressed to sea shells and no matter how much she tried to hear past that sound, she couldn't. She was stuck, unmoving, weightless, weak and tired. She felt cold, her skin wet and bare. Her eyes refused to open and a weird weight was pressing down on her chest. She couldn't remember where she was or how she got there or why she didn't seem to have any control over her own body, though she did consider the possibility that she was dead and this was what happened after.

What a rip off! No 30 second movie clip of her whole life on super-speed. No pearly gates. No all-knowing, bearded dude to tell her it was her time and all was cool. She wanted a refund. Stat!

And then, over the sound of water, she heard excited yapping, getting louder as it came closer, before suddenly something sprayed across the side of her face. Not water, but something gritty and sharp. It was quickly countered with the feeling of something wet, warm, and terrible smelling, smothering her cheeks and forehead.

A dog.

A wet, happy, friendly dog was currently licking her face.

Ugh. If things couldn't get worse…

"Miss? Miss, are you okay?" a deep, male voice wondered.

 _Uh, no!_  she wanted to shout at him. Did she  _look_ like she was okay? 'Cause she felt like she'd been run over.

Fingers probed her neck, searching for a pulse, while another slid under her nose to see if they could feel her breath. Could be worse; somebody who had no idea what they were doing could have found her. This guy seemed to be in control.

A few seconds later, his hands retracted, and she felt her lips turn down in a feeble frown. His fingers had been warm and now that they weren't touching her, she noticed just how cold she really was. She was in water, she realized that too. She could feel it lapping at her, soaking her hair, what little clothing she could feel on her, and gently pooling in the inside of her elbow. Distantly, she could feel the sun reaching for her too, alight on the side of her face and faint on her chest.

"Ma'am? I've called for help… Somebody will be here soon," the voice told her again. He was reassuring, calm, and for some reason she felt comfortable with him there.

She felt the cold press of something against her shoulder and jolted, simultaneously annoyed by it and happy that she was starting to get control of her limbs again.

"Give her some space, General. C'mere…" He whistled to call his dog again, who apparently thought it was friendly to wipe his cold nose on her.

With the dog's retreat came a splash of water to the side of her face and she blinked, turning her head away instinctively. Slowly, her eyes opened, and she found herself staring up at a purple sky. The sun was setting, she realized, and she was lying in the ocean. She could taste salt water on her lips, she could smell it in the air.

It came back to her suddenly that she was on a road trip. She'd hopped in her beat-up Volkswagen some months ago and, after traveling for a while, decided to go surfing. She'd been good at it, once upon a time, although she had a feeling that was before she'd hit puberty and her chest had knocked her a little off balance. Still, she'd thought it'd be nice to get away somewhere warm, not focus so much on the pressures of school and her parents and her total lack of job prospects.

Apparently life decided to throw her another pressure by making her crash under the weight of one seriously huge wave, leaving her to wash up on shore.  _Ugh_. There was no catching a break for her, seriously.

And then her view of the sky was blocked. She couldn't make out his face at first, a trick of the light and, probably, oxygen deprivation, but then he came into startling clarity. He was blonde with bright blue eyes, a chiseled jaw line, stubborn chin, and the pinkest pair of lips she'd ever seen on a dude. Well… maybe her luck was changing.

"Can you hear me?" he asked her, his brow furrowing.

She meant to say 'yes,' maybe flirt with him, joke about her epic surfing failure, but all that came out was a groan. Now that she was a little more conscious, everything hurt. Not in a 'that's probably broken' way so much as a 'the rest of this vacation will be spent lounging around in PJ's' kind of way.

He knelt down next to her and reached for her hand, still resting in the water. "I'm Steve Rogers; I've called for help. You, uh…" He shook his head. "I think you had a surfing accident…"

To Darcy's credit, she managed to make words, she just wished they'd been more charming. "Is my board okay?"

He smiled, ducking his head a little. He cast his eyes away and frowned. "Not if it's the orange and blue board a few feet away… currently in three pieces."

She frowned. " _Man_ … This is so  _not_  going on Facebook."

A chuckle left him and she raised a hand to her head, squinting up at him. "Darcy," she said.

"Sorry?"

"My name. It's Darcy Lewis."

He nodded. "Well, Darcy Lewis, can you tell if you broke anything?"

She smiled weakly. "Besides my pride?"

"Besides that," he agreed, grinning.

"Hmph… No." She drew her arm up beneath her and tried to push up but he stayed her, his hands heavy on her shoulders.

"You shouldn't move." He grimaced. "I would've pulled you onto the beach, but there's a chance you strained something and moving around could make it worse."

"Yeah…" She slumped back into the water. "I don't know, I think I could make a wheelchair work."

His lips twitched. "They'll be here soon."

She hummed, her eyes drifting closed for a second. She was feeling kind of tired, actually. Maybe moving could wait...

"Darcy?" He found her hand and squeezed it. "Try to stay awake."

She frowned. "'m cold."

Her eyes opened a moment later when she heard shuffling. Steve had stood up and was taking off his brown leather jacket. Her brows hiked a little. He was  _seriously_ tall, and buff, and… wearing plaid and pressed khakis, but that was excusable. He stepped into the water and knelt down again, covering her front with his jacket, tucking it in carefully.

"A little better?" he wondered.

His cologne was faint, masculine, but it seemed to fill every breath with something other than salt water, and she appreciated that.

"Better."

He stared down at her again, eyes darting over her face. "So, are you… from around here?" he asked.

She smiled faintly. If she wasn't injured and he wasn't so boy next door, she might think he was trying to hit on her. "No… No, I'm on vacation. Grew up in Philadelphia. You?"

"Brooklyn," he said, nodding.

"You're pretty far from home, Toto."

He grinned, looking boyish. "Pretty sure we're about the same distance, Dorothy."

True. Pennsylvania and New York were state neighbors, but for some reason, she thought Steve looked like he was a lot farther from his comfort zone than she was. Maybe it was the conservative clothing, not what she was used to seeing in California, where the majority of people she'd met were soaking up the sun in shorts and bikinis. Not something she complained about, really. In fact, if she could trust her memory, she was wearing her favorite army green bikini with little white hearts stitched on it, and a sheer, white top over it for both comfort and to somewhat keep the sun from burning her fair skin.

"So what do you do when you're not saving damsels from killer waves?" she wondered.

He shrugged, resting his elbows on his knees. "Work, mostly. I… I'm on leave right now."

"Leave," she repeated. "You a soldier?"

He reached up and rubbed the back of his neck, turning his eyes away. "I was… Now I'm mostly on call."

Darcy couldn't say she'd ever heard of anything like that and, looking at him, she figured he was still pretty young. Mid- to late-twenties. Young enough that they'd still want him stationed somewhere. She didn't want to get cynical about her government or all the good boys and girls that went to fight for their country, but she couldn't help but think of her poli sci class and all the debates she'd had with fellow students over whether the war was worth it or if all the men and women who'd gone to serve had died to line the pockets of government assholes. She briefly remembered Agent Coulson from the shakedown at Puente Antiguo; for a suit, he hadn't been half bad. And even managed to get her iPod back to her after Thor went on home to clean up his brother's mess.

"That explains the pressed pants then," she said, rather than stir up what was likely to be an awkward conversation. Most soldiers fought for something they believed in, and they didn't like that dream being questioned.

He glanced down at his pants and then frowned. "There's something wrong with that?"

Her lips twitched. "Not something you see on a beach too often… No worries, I'm more of a 'wear what's comfortable' kind of person. Who cares about trends, right? And you fill 'em out fine, so it's good." She winked playfully.

He cleared his throat, raising a brow. "Thank you…?"

"Welcome." She cast her eyes back and turned her head up so she could see. "Where'd the dog go? He was pretty friendly."

Steve looked around and then whistled.

Not long after, she could hear the splash of multiple paws hitting the water and then a shaggy, black and white border collie was leaning over her, one ear flopped over while the other stood straight up. He was cute now that she could see him. Before, when he was just a wet nose and tongue, she hadn't been too happy to have him around. But now she could see the appeal. He panted happily and leaned in to give her forehead a slobbery kiss. Darcy smiled and reached a hand up, tangling her fingers in his long fur.

"Hey, boy…" she greeted, laughing as he sniffed her hair and down the side of her face. "You're a charmer, huh?"

"Careful," Steve warned. "You don't want to move around too much."

"Listen to this worrywart…" she said to the dog. "Who wouldn't risk being a paraplegic for a mug like yours?"

General yapped happily as if he understood, his tail wagging excitedly.

Steve sighed, but paused when the sound of an ambulance could be heard in the near distance.

"Guess this is where we say goodbye," Darcy said, scrubbing her fingers behind General's ear. "Listen, if you leave some info with the good docs who haul me outta here, I'll send you a thank you post card or something." She looked over at him. "Seriously. I appreciate the save."

"You don't have to do that. I'm just glad you're okay."

"Me too." She bit her lip before adding, "Y'know, for a second there, I actually thought I bit it…"

His brow furrowed.

"Died," she explained. "It was pretty quiet, kinda cold, couldn't really move… In other words, it sucked the big one."

A haunted look passed over Steve's face as he said, "Yeah, I… I think I know the feeling."

He looked over again as the paramedics rushed down the beach, a stretcher in hand for her.

"It'll probably put things into perspective, right?" she said, ignoring the commotion. "That's what near-death experiences are supposed to do, right?"

He frowned. "I suppose they are…"

"Well, hopefully this one does, because I think I need some direction… Without all the parental nagging, at least."

He smiled faintly. "I think you'll be okay."

"Says the hunk who just met me."

A splash let her know that the paramedics were there and before Steve could say anything more, they were on either side of her. She was distracted with lights in her eyes and questions about what she remembered, what her name was, if anything hurt. She didn't have time to see where her savior got to as she had a neck brace wrapped around her and was carefully moved out of the water and onto a stretcher. Steve's jacket was replaced with an emergency blanket and soon they had carried her back up the beach to the waiting ambulance.

"Do you know where you're taking her? Is she going to be okay?" she heard Steve's voice wonder, but then the doors were closed on her and the only thing she heard over the paramedic bustling around beside her was the yapping of General.

It didn't take them long to get to the hospital, but it took a while longer for them to decide she was in the clear. She had some aches and pains and they were pretty sure she swallowed a good lot of the ocean, but they thought she was going to be okay. They changed her into a hospital gown and set her up in a room for overnight observation, just to be sure, and then asked her if she wanted to call anybody. The shortlist of people she would want around in that moment were mostly people she didn't  _actually_ want to talk to, what with the whole 'I don't know where I'm going in life, stop asking me' crisis currently underway. She figured she'd call her mom when she was a little more up to hearing one of her lectures and let her know that she'd almost lost her smart-mouthed only child, hopefully win some sympathy points, and leave it at that.

She spent a while surfing the pathetic options on TV, wishing she had her iPod with her, but no such luck. She was contemplating making a break for it and catching a cab to her car, but just the walk to the bathroom let her know her legs were still shaky. She'd just crawled back into her bed when she heard a knock at her door.

She glanced over at her two roommates, or at least the curtain shrouded spaces they took up, and when they didn't move or complain, she called out, "Yeah?"

The door opened slowly and a familiar head popped in. Steve offered a sheepish smile as he walked in, casting his eyes around to see if anyone else was around. "I'm not disturbing anyone, am I?"

"Nah, I'm pretty sure they got the good drugs," she said, waving a dismissive hand.

"Uh… I wasn't sure what to bring a recent drowning victim, so I opted for simple," he told her, holding out a bag.

Her eyes lit up as she recognized her backpack, a little worse for wear, but functional all the same. "How'd you get it?" she asked, taking it from his outstretched hand.

"Well, the only car left after dark was your Volkswagen, which was conveniently unlocked. I thought you might want a few comforts from home…" He shuffled his feet awkwardly. "The paramedic told me you'd be here and when I checked in to see if you were okay, they told me you were in overnight, so…"

"It's too bad they don't let pets in or this would've been a home-run night." She leaned back against the bed, which she'd used the control to elevate to a seated position, and waved for him to take a seat in a nearby chair.

He pulled it up next to her bed and watched her as she searched through it, taking out the book she'd read five or six times already, the spine cracked and the pages worn and folded. She put it on the bedside table and added her iPod and headphones with it, the chord getting tangled around a brush and a few extra hair elastics. She pulled out a chocolate bar she didn't remember buying and tossed it toward Steve, who caught it easily, an eyebrow raised.

"Clark," he said, looking down at the wrapper. "You know, they came out with this in 1919."

"Yeah?" Her brows furrowed. "You know a lot about chocolate bar history, Steve?"

His lips twitched. "No. I, uh… I couldn't eat it when I was younger…" He shrugged. "Peanuts."

"You're allergic?"

He laughed to himself. "Uh, I was— I was allergic to just about everything."

"And that…" She shook her head, confused, "went…  _away?_ "

"In a sense." He unwrapped the top of the bar and took a bite out of it, chewing slowly, as if to savor it.

She watched him curiously. "So tell me more about yourself," she encouraged.

"What do you want to know?"

"Hobbies, favorite music, what brings you out to California, whatever…"

He nodded. "Uh, well, I like to draw… I even considered going to art school for a while."

"No way. You don't strike me as the starving artist type." She grinned. "That's cool."

"Yeah, I… It was something I wanted to do, but…" He stared out distantly, his brow furrowed heavily. "With the war, it just… It seemed like maybe my calling wasn't meant to be spent in a classroom. I just— I felt like I was supposed to do something more, something, bigger, so… I traded in my pencil for the red, white and blue."

She stared at him thoughtfully. "Do you ever regret it?" she wondered.

He looked over at her suddenly, as if her speaking had brought him out of his reverie.

She half-smiled. "It's okay, you don't have to answer. I guess this near-death experience has got me thinking deep."

"No, I— It's fine…" He blew out a sigh. "I don't know. I don't know if I regret it…" He shook his head. "Some days I wish I could go back to being just a regular guy, y'know? Just pal around with Bucky, get back to my roots, find my way… And other days, I— I know that what I did was right. It was what I was supposed to do, and spending time regretting it isn't going to change anything."

"Everybody always says that." She snorted cynically. "Don't focus on what if's 'cause they don't change anything. But… I think you should, sometimes. I think it's good to look back and ask yourself what would've happened if it went another way. I mean, I'm not saying  _live_  in the past and wish it'll change, because it won't, but I dunno… Clarity or being honest with yourself, that stuff's important."

He looked over at her, smiling faintly. "You're a pretty smart gal, Darcy."

She grinned. "I don't think anyone's ever called me 'gal' before."

He shrugged sheepishly.

She shook her head. "I like it. It's got a nice ring."

"How about you?" he wondered. "What're your hobbies or dreams or anything?"

Darcy picked at the threads of her blanket. "I'm a drifter, I think. One of those no roots, skip around, town to town, dig out change from the couch cushions for gas money kind of people…" She frowned. "I tried the school thing and I don't know, I wasn't bad at it, but… I just feel like there's something bigger I'm supposed to be doing, y'know? Like I went into political science 'cause my mom thinks I should be a lawyer. But courtrooms, that's not really my thing. I like debating, I like knowing what's going on in the world, and questioning it, but having somebody's life or their future dependant on if I argue their case better than the other dude, it just… Too much pressure, I think." She laughed, rolling her eyes. "Which is probably why I thought I'd pull a Blue Crush and try surfing… Haven't been since I was like,  _ten_ , but I thought hey, it's probably like riding a bike."

He was a good listener, watching her as she spoke, taking in every word, not interrupting. "You said earlier that you were looking for direction… That you hoped maybe the near-death experience would give you some…" He stared at her searchingly. "Do you think that's true?"

"Honestly…" Her brows hiked as she cast her eyes away. "I think I'll get out of here tomorrow, I'll hit up some greasy diner for runny eggs and burnt toast. I'll find a map and  _blindly_ pick out a new place to go,  _preferably_ one that won't drown me. And I'll just…  _go_." She shrugged. "I don't know what I want yet. I don't know where I'm going. And maybe I'm running away, or shirking responsibility, or…  _whatever_. But, I like it. I like just exploring. I guess, I think I'll know where I'm supposed to be when I get there… Y'know?"

"Yeah…." He nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah."

"Or that's just another excuse so I don't have to  _actually_ think about how much money I wasted on college." Her nose wrinkled.

He chuckled under his breath and held out the half-eaten chocolate bar. "I hear chocolate makes you feel better."

She hummed and snagged it from him for a bite. "It's actually an aphrodisiac," she told him, winking.

She thought he might be the kind of guy who would blush, but he seemed to take her personality as it went, and merely smiled to himself, taking the chocolate bar back as she handed it to him.

"What about you, soldier?" She watched him curiously. "Where are you headed?"

He sat back in his chair and sighed. "I don't know either…" His forehead wrinkled. "I picked up General a few months back. It was one of those things… I was just kind of wandering, no real destination in mind, just a tank full of gas, and I saw him… Right out in the middle of the highway… Looked like he hadn't eaten in weeks, his fur was matted, but he was just… the friendliest dog you ever met."

She smiled softly. "Wanderer finds wanderer, a love story."

He coughed out a laugh and shook his head. "He's a good companion. Reminds me to stop, take a look around, enjoy the scenery."

"Mostly 'cause he has to pee, right?"

He nodded, amused by her candor.

"Yeah. I can see the appeal. It's just been me, a broke down Volkswagen, an iPod that's seen better days, and a map that won't fold properly. Seriously, I just stuffed it in the backseat last time…"

His lips twitched. "I noticed that."

"Guess I should appreciate General's weak bladder then… Who knows if I'd have made it out of the water if you weren't taking him for a walk, right?"

Steve's expression turned grim. "Maybe that's one of those what if's we shouldn't focus on too much."

"Maybe."

A few minutes of comfortable silence passed before a nurse stepped into the room to check on one of Darcy's roommates. It wasn't until she was on her way out that she glanced at Steve and said pointedly, "Visiting hours are over."

Politely, Steve stood from his seat. "Sorry, ma'am, I'll be on my way."

The nurse nodded before leaving, and he turned back to Darcy. "Well, I guess this is goodbye…  _again_." He held a hand out to her, which she shook, smiling at his manners. "It was nice meeting you, Darcy."

She nodded. "Yeah. Thanks, uh… For everything."

He was still holding her hand as he said, "You know I, uh… I had a—a near-death experience not so long ago…"

She quirked her head, brow raised.

"Things… Things were very different after. I… It was like waking up to a whole new world." He frowned. "It was difficult. I spent a lot of time regretting things and wishing I could change other things…"

"What changed?"

"I found a purpose. Or… I  _re-found_  my purpose."

"What if you never had one before?"

He stared at her. "I think it's like you said… You'll know it when you get there or you find it… When something happens and… the pieces just fall into place."

"You really think it's that easy?"

He half-smiled, shaking his head. "I never said it was easy…"

"I like that honesty, Steve." She winked. "It's a refreshing change."

He laughed under his breath. "Well I'm glad I could help."

As he let her hand go, he moved to leave.

"You did."

He looked back.

"You helped a lot," she explained. "Not just… saving me with the water or hanging around to make sure I didn't hurt myself worse. It was, I dunno,  _enlightening_ talking to you…" She stared at him searchingly. "I guess, without getting too heartwarming TV moment here, I just hope you find whatever it is you're looking for too."

He smiled, warm and bright. "Thank you."

She nodded.

And with that, Steve Rogers left her hospital room, all the six foot, broad shoulders, and boyish charm she could handle. Darcy settled back into her bed and reached for her book and her iPod, telling herself that she didn't wish visiting hours didn't last longer or that, instead of having to fish her out of the ocean, they'd met like regular people in a diner or passing each other on the beach. What if's weren't going to do anything for her. They had a moment, one that kind of helped her feel better about herself and her situation, and now it was gone. Over. Something to look back on later and appreciate.

She wished him and General the best.

Plugging her earbuds in, she picked her favorite playlist and turned it up loud as she found her place in her book again. She fell asleep to Bob Dylan's  _My Back Pages_.

The following morning, bright and early, Darcy was given the okay to leave. She packed up what little she had and caught a cab back to her car, no longer alone looking out over the beach. People crowded the sandy expanse below and surfers rode the waves with much more skill than she had. She tossed her bag inside and rested her elbow on the top of her car, peering out at where she very nearly could have died. Wasn't the worst place to go, she decided. The sky was blue and cloudless, the water clear and restless. A little slice of paradise. Still, she was happy to be driving away from it rather than becoming a victim of it.

Trading out her hospital issue pants and top, she pulled on a pair of cut-off shorts and a loose Stones t-shirt. She added a pair of flip flops before hopping into her car. With one last look at the ocean, she turned the ignition and pulled away, saying  _hasta la vista_  to her California dreams. Speaking of, she thought it was only right to listen to California Love as she left, blasting 2Pac and Dre on her iPod and rocking to the familiar beat as she went.

She made her way down to a highway diner she'd spotted on her way in and pulled up next to a shiny red truck. Digging her wallet out of her bag, she kicked her car door shut behind her as she piled her hair up on top of her head and tied it in a knot with the elastic she kept on her wrist. It was as she was walking through the diner door that she noticed the hospital bracelet there too. She focused on trying to wiggle her hand free of its confines, briefly noticing the waitress who told her to take a seat wherever she could find one.

Darcy found a booth looking out on her car and slid into it, frowning down at the plastic wrist band, wondering if she'd have to ask the waitress for a pair or scissors or a knife. She could only imagine all the scenarios they'd come up with for why she had the bracelet and smirked to herself at a few outlandish ones. Escaped mental-ward patient topping her own list. She was brought out of her reverie when she heard someone clear their throat.

"Yeah, I'll just a coffee and whatever the special is," she answered without looking. "And a knife, if you've got one."

"I'm not sure they'll let me into the kitchen to fill the order," a familiar, wry voice answered.

Darcy looked up abruptly, surprised to see Steve standing there.

He grinned, nodding down at her. "I saw you come in, but you were preoccupied." He waved at the seat across from her and she gave him the go-ahead to join her.

He sat, a newspaper under one arm, and a mug of coffee in his other hand. "You want some help with that?" he wondered, staring at her wrist.

"You got scissors hidden on you?" she queried, giving him a quick once over.

"Pocket knife," he answered, taking just that out of his jacket pocket.

"Ah, a boy scout." She clucked her tongue. "Should've guessed."

He raised an eyebrow and held a hand out.

She placed her wrist in it and watched as he cut off the bracelet for her easily, folding it over and placing it on her palm, curling her fingers over it.

The waitress arrived then to ask her for her order, to which she reiterated what she'd said to Steve earlier.

After she'd left, Steve looked over at her. "Runny eggs and toast?"

"Every diner's special. It's a road trip staple," Darcy answered, shrugging.

He hummed, lifting his coffee to his lips.

"I didn't see General out there," she said, turning her head to the window, looking over the two beat-up cars, family-issue mini-van, and lone truck present.

"He's asleep in the cab… He'll probably wake up when I head out, hoping I have some scraps for him."

She grinned. "I'll save him my crusts."

"He'll like that."

"So? Looks like you're headed the same way as me," she noticed. "Any particular place in mind yet?"

He shook his head. "I figure I should probably start making my way back toward New York. I've been on the road a while now. Haven't been any serious disasters, but I should probably be in the neighborhood just in case."

Darcy quirked her head. "Just what do you do for the ARMY that you get called in for the big stuff anyway?"

He paused, turning his eyes away, and her eyes lit up.

"No way. Are you about to tell me it's classified?" She was positively giddy. "That is  _awesome!_ "

He raised a brow. "Really?"

"Well, the last super agent I met wasn't the worst. I mean, he had sticky fingers and he barely every changed his expression, but he was pretty cool. Dry sense of humor, y'know? Anyway, I think he was rooting for us, so he won me over eventually."

It was Steve's turn to look curious, and Darcy's turn to tell him it was classified.

"So, New York, huh? That's a pretty long drive…"

"Yeah. I might see if I can get a place in Brooklyn… Somewhere with a backyard so General can run around."

She smiled. "Sounds nice."

He nodded. "Could be."

"You know, there are probably classes you can take… Art classes," she told him. "Even just night classes so your days are free to play soldier."

He hummed thoughtfully. "Yeah, I suppose there are."

"You ever need a girl to do a nude portrait, I'm that girl."

He ducked his head, grinning to himself. "And how would you suppose I'd find you?"

"Hey, you work for the government… I imagine Big Brother wouldn't have a hard time tracking me down if they wanted to."

He eyed her, nodding. "Maybe."

"And who knows, maybe I'll find myself in New York some time in the near future…" She perked up, brows raised. "Never know, maybe that's where I'm supposed to be."

He stared at her a long moment. "I'd like that."

"Well, if I ever find myself down there, I'll look you up."

"Good. I hope you do."

The waitress appeared then, placing a plate down in front of Darcy and turning over her mug to fill with steaming hot, black coffee.

Steve and Darcy traded chit-chat, discussing music and movies for a while, to which she wasn't surprised to find he was into the old fashioned stuff. Blues music and black and white pictures, he talked about both with such wistful appreciation she found herself cataloguing the songs and movies he mentioned for later downloading.

Even after she'd finished eating, her plate put off to the side, the crusts of her toast wrapped up in a napkin for General, they sat talking over coffee. She told him a few modern movies she thought he'd like and he told her about a theater he found in New York that only played movies made before the 50's. She felt herself getting swept up in it and vaguely wondered just how long it would take for her to get to New York, without looking like a stalky stalker on top of it.

It wasn't until General gave a bored yap from outside, alerting them that they'd spent a good two hours sitting in the diner, that they finally packed up to go. She followed him out, squaring up her bill and dismissing his offer to pay for her, and made her way over to the passenger side of the truck. General was panting at the window, paws up on the sill, excited to see her.

"Hey, you!" she greeted, unfolding the napkin. "Hungry?" She fed him a long strip of crust and scrubbed her fingers behind his ear as he happily chewed at it.

Steve joined her, reaching for the door handle to let the dog out so he could show off his new found skills. Apparently Steve had taught him to sit, shake a paw, roll over, and even play dead. Although, she was pretty sure General's favorite thing to do was chase his tail or sit on her foot, his head tipped back against her hip for her to scratch his ears.

Darcy was a little disappointed when she ran out of things to feed him and knew that their time had come to an end. She tucked her hands in the pockets of her shorts and kicked the dirt ground as she circled around the front of his truck to walk back to her car. She reached inside to dig out her purse and grabbed a pen.

Steve watched her curiously as he loaded General back in the truck and walked around to his side.

"So I don't know when I'll wind up in New York. Might still have some wandering to do... But here… is my number." She handed over the hospital bracelet he'd snipped off for her, her cell number written on the back. "Just in case we don't cross paths again, I figure why not have a long distance phone buddy for those nights when General can't help you beat back the what it's…"

One side of his mouth quirked up in a smile as he took it from her. "Thank you."

She shrugged, leaning around to toss the pen back in her car. "Least I can do. Although, I should probably warn you that I'm a bit of a talker and once you get me going, I can talk non-stop about some pretty random stuff. Don't even get me started on government hypocrisy or—"

She was cut off when he leaned forward and kissed her. It was slow, warm, and just a firm passing of his lips over hers. She was dizzy with it. Her hands rose up to cup his face, the faint stubble of his cheeks tickling her skin. His faint cologne invaded each inhale and she swore she felt her brain fritz out with all the yum. Her knees shook a little, this time not from exhaustion but anticipation. Steve was a good kisser. His hands settled on her hips, long fingers flexing, and he squeezed, drawing her in tight until she was pressed flat against his frame. He took his time, sucking her bottom lip between his and nipping it lightly before his tongue swept after it. She hummed approvingly and briefly wondered what it'd be like to spend a lazy Sunday in bed with him. As he leaned away, he pressed one, two, three more pecks to her lips and then grinned.

"In case we don't cross paths again, I don't want any regrets," he told her, his voice a little huskier than before.

She stared up at him, her brows raised, and nodded. "I like the way you think."

He laughed under his breath. "I'll call you, Darcy," he said, and it felt like a promise.

"I'll answer." She leaned back against her car, one ankle hooked over top the other, her hands tucked back in her pockets. With how wobbly her knees were, she didn't want to risk face-planting in front of him.

He climbed into his truck, turned the ignition, and hung his arm out the window, giving her a long, heavy look before finally he waved. She waved back as he pulled out and away, turning onto the highway.

She watched his truck disappear into the distance before finally pushing up to circle around to her driver's side door, climbing into her old Volkswagen. Reaching into the backseat for her map, she found it next to an opened bag of licorice. Rather than the wrinkled mess she'd left it in, it was perfectly folded; apparently Steve had fixed it for her when he'd grabbed her bag. And there, scribbled at the top, was his name and cell number.

So, she wasn't sure when, but she was definitely,  _absolutely_ , going to get herself to New York. Sure, there was no guarantee it was where she was meant to be, she wasn't sure what she was going to find there for herself except the possibility of what Steve offered, but Darcy liked taking chances. For all she knew, her life was going to start there. Or, hell, maybe it started the moment she woke up in the surf on a beach, with Steve Rogers leaning over her. Maybe her destiny was always meant to lead her to New York. She wouldn't know until she got there.

Of course, she wasn't going to rush. She still had some wandering to do and she figured the drive there would fit that just fine. She'd stop and take in the sights, maybe visit a few distant family members, and see if anything else inspired her. At least now she had a destination in mind, however temporary it might be. Grabbing up a marker, she pulled the cap off with her teeth, and put a bright blue star over New York City.

As she pulled out of the parking lot of the diner and onto the road, she grinned to herself. As far as near-death experiences went, she thought this one might just be worth it.

[ **End**.]


End file.
